Hope
by Explorer08
Summary: Jason starts to deal with Bruce's death. Can he face the fact that he was never truly reconciled with the man, neither as Red Hood nor as his son? Or will it finally destroy him from the inside out? Rated T One-Shot (Not really FLUFFY)


*****B*****

** Okay, so this is one version of how Jason might deal with Bruce's death. He never got the acceptance he sought, both as Red Hood and as Bruce's son. **

** The references to the church are from Batman: Under the Red Hood.**

**I own nothing, all Batman related characters/events are property of DC.**

*****B*****

A wild summer wind whips through Gotham, whistling eerily through alleyways and into open windows. I've left my jacket at home thanks to the heat, and my helmet is stifling. I look out at Crime Alley. The sounds of the city echo in the distance; sirens blare frantically and horns honk in annoyance. Thunder rumbles in the distance. It always seems to rain in Gotham on the worst of days.

This view is all too familiar. I'm standing on top of St. Michael's Cathedral. The statue that had collapsed onto the roof has been cleared away, and there is evidence of a new one being built. I still remember my jacket falling to the ground, burning as it did, and leaping from the ledge of the building to crash into the abandoned apartment where Joker had been stashed in the closet. The memory of my face crashing into the porcelain tub and toilet bowl makes me wince, and I push it to the back of my mind.

Lightning streaks across the sky and I tremble, a chill running down my spine. It's like I'm about to relive that night all over again, only I know I can't. Not really. _He_ won't be here this time. He's gone.

The rain starts and I pull off my helmet. I stare at it, the empty eye slots seeming to stare back. They remind me of man that hides behind the mask.

_Assassin._

_Murderer._

_Mistake._

Shaking my head, I toss it aside. It rolls across the roof, stopping just below the partially reconstructed statue. Another streak of lightning flashes and thunder rolls. It echoes right through me.

In reality, it's not the thunder that's tearing me apart. It's the pain. The pain from my mistakes, from my futile anger, from the missed opportunity to have it all back. It's been a week since he left, and in that time the pain has only gotten worse. My chest is so tight I can barely breathe and my head is throbbing from lack of sleep. The rain has turned into a torrent, soaking into my grey Kevlar suit.

My legs give out beneath me and my knees meet the hard stone roof of the cathedral. The pain of the action doesn't even register through it all. Another bolt of lightning illuminates the sky and I can't take it anymore.

An agonized scream rips itself from my throat.

My hands clutch at my head, as though trying to subconsciously hold it together. It's futile. Tears start pouring out of my eyes, mixing with the rain that runs down my face. The pain in my chest is all-consuming now and I fall forward, barely catching myself with my shaking arms. Sobs wrack me and I try to catch a breath, failing and crying even harder.

"WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME HERE?" I scream at nothing.

The sound of the storm drowns out my voice. Rain consumes every echo, muting it and giving the noise of Gotham over to the thunder and lightning. I shout again, angry, frustrated, and done with it all.

My arms give out and I roll onto my side to avoid doing a swan dive off the church.

"I don't know what to do, Bruce," I sob viciously.

This pain is worse than anything I've ever felt. Worse than my mother dying, my biological mother's betrayal, being beaten by the Joker, and even worse than feeling replaced.

This is true agony.

***B***

I'm not sure how long I lay there. The tears eventually stop; I'm simply too tired to cry. My body is numb to the chill brought on by the rain. I lay on my back, looking up at the now clear sky. Stars twinkle back at me and I curse them. They stand for hope, but it's a lie. There's no hope now.

I feel a pair of hands shaking me. A distant voice is calling my name. My movements are sluggish as I open my eyes. Nightwing is kneeling over me, hands grasping the front of my suit and lips mouthing my name. His eyes meet mine and he pauses. I close my eyes, too tired to do anything anyway. I feel his grip slacken, and a hand moves to brush my hair away from my face.

"Oh, Jay," he sighs. "Let's go home."

For the first time in years, I don't argue. Even if I wanted to, I'm barely aware as he lifts me. I manage to sling an arm over his shoulders to help him out. I pry open my eyes again, glancing to where my helmet rests. A small pair of hands picks it up and follows us.

_Tim._

I shiver violently as Dick shoots a line and swings us from the roof. The air rushes past us as we descend and I'm unconscious again before we reach the ground.

***B***

Pain shoots through my head as I come back to reality. My throat burns as I swallow, and I shiver under the black sheets of my bed.

_My bed. At the manor._

I haven't slept in this bed in years and relish in its comfort. To this day, it's the most comfortable place I've ever slept. I feel the bed dip beside me and I crack open my eyes.

_Dick._

He looks at me for a moment. I shift under his gaze, slowly sitting up. Pain is still achingly present in my chest and I clutch at my head as it all comes flooding back. My eyes sting with tears. I don't want to cry anymore, but I can't hold it in. I feel Dick's arms wrap around me, trying to comfort me.

"Shhh, Jaybird. It's okay, I'm here."

His statement, short and full of his own anguish, echoes through me. I sag into him and allow myself to grieve with him. I look up at him, taking in his tired face. Blue eyes, filled with tears of their own, twinkle like stars back at me. Seeing them, I realize I've changed my mind about the stars.

In that very moment, they give me all the hope in the world.


End file.
